


In the blindness

by shelleysprometheus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Love is Blindness - U2, M/M, What happened in the time in-between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 20:06:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelleysprometheus/pseuds/shelleysprometheus
Summary: The love in which you drown, the love in which you never ask questions, the love in which the knot slips and the thread rips but you stay, you stay and never ask.Love is clockworksAnd cold steelFingers too numb to feelSqueeze the handleBlow out the candleLove is blindness~ U2





	In the blindness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [88thParallel (CanadaHolm)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadaHolm/gifts).



> I have always been addicted to the words of this song, the feeling of trying to hang on to something so tightly but still feel it slip away, and I know that nothing I write can come close to capturing Bono’s emotive imagery, but here’s my interpretation, with a prompt from my gorgeous conductor of light, @88thparallel, of what happened in the time in-between.

It’s been three months.

Three months since he took his last full breath, a breath where his lungs were able to expand all the way without catching, without feeling like the ribs caging them were about to shatter.

He doesn’t understand, and he doesn’t care to understand; he doesn’t want to see.

There are seventeen steps. He knows each and every one. The way the bottom one slants to the left, the way the twelfth doesn’t quite meet the wall. The way the very top one creaks just so under a certain footfall.

So one night, when it is already gone half one, and the very top step creaks, he knows it’s deliberate; its an announcement, a question. And as the fingers squeeze the handle, he answers by turning off the lamp.

And in the blindness, he feels him slip in beside him, fingers cold and numb. And he holds him. He doesn’t ask, they don’t talk, but he can feel. Feel the ragged breaths, feel the silent tears, feel the scars.

They wrap the night around each other and in the morning he is gone.

He will always wait, and he will always return. With a few more tears and a few more scars and more secrets he’ll never tell.

And he will always welcome him, in the blindness. His love.

In the hope that one day he will stay.


End file.
